Letting Go
by Archaeologist
Summary: ObiWan Kenobi and Siri Tachi refuse to have anything to do with each other, no matter what their masters say. Takes place after 'Secrets of the Jedi'. ObiWan is 18.
1. Chapter 1

**Letting go  
Characters:** Siri Tachi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Adi Gallia, Qui-Gon Jinn  
**Timeframe:** JA Obi-Wan is 18. After _Secrets of the Jedi_ by Jude Watson  
**Genre:** drama, rated G  
**Summary:** Obi-Wan and Siri aren't getting along. Their masters want to help.  
**Notes:** this was for a POV challenge - write the same scene from two points of view. I was paired up with obsessedwithsw for the challenge. I've since rewritten the dialogue that she had written as part of this challenge so it is entirely my own work. It was fun working with her!  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Qui-Gon Jinn or Adi Gallia or Obi-Wan Kenobi or Siri Tachi or the Star Wars concept; Lucasfilm and Jude Watson do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No credits have changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

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_Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. - Kahlil Gibran_

The noise in the Temple dining hall was deafening.

His meal finished, Qui-Gon sat back, delighting in the sounds of Jedi at play - the squeal of high-pitched youngling voices rising over the din, the undertone of base and tenor as Knights and Masters argued about news from the Senate or the latest edict from the Council. Good-natured laughter skidded across the room as Padawans jostled their agemates in the endless celebration of children turning into adults - all jokes and posturing and gossip. Behind him, Qui-Gon could hear the boot-heel clack of Jedi scurrying in and out, gathering food and friends in this busy place.

It was noisy and chaotic and, he had to admit, very welcome after so much time away from the Temple. Too long. It had been too long since they had had enough time to relax into much needed rest, to meet again with friends and colleagues, to replenish their battered spirits in the warm clear currents of the Force.

But there was one person who was not enjoying himself.

Not for the first time that day, Qui-Gon looked over at the Senior Padawans' table and trying not to frown his concern at the scene.

Obi-Wan was the calm center in a storm of activity. He was surrounded by lively friends - their

arms akimbo, tentacles waving, and exoskeleton appendages clicking rapidly as they exchanged news and tall tales about their latest missions. Smiling faces, shouts of exhilaration peppering the air, the padawans were clearly excited to be together again. But not Obi-Wan.

There was no wry grin, no sparkle in his grey eyes, no hints of mischief planned or shared secrets, no indication at all that he was happy to be home. Instead, his padawan sat there, seemingly the perfect example of Jedi detachment, nodding politely when pressed but otherwise untouched by the chaos around him.

More importantly, Obi-Wan refused to look at anyone. Instead, he stared down at his food, occasionally stirring the mound of greens whenever someone sent a question his way, or else spent his time gazing off into the distance, his eyes unfocused, his face pale and disturbingly blank. Even from his vantage point, Qui-Gon could see that he was unhappy. In fact, his spirit seemed to be wounded, almost uncaring.

It could not continue.

Before Qui-Gon could signal that he wanted a word with his Learner, Obi-Wan's sometime rival, Siri Tachi, entered the hall and sat down at the far end of the table. She was greeted with enthusiasm by everyone except his padawan.

Instead, Obi-Wan's mouth tightened into a thin line. Frowning, he made one final stab at his food and then shoved it aside, ignoring the looks of concern from the other teenagers. A few seconds later, he stood up, shaking his head at some query from his boisterous friends and left.

For a moment, the occupants of the Senior Padawans' table were silent, apparently astonished at his apprentice's strange behavior. They were sitting there, staring after Obi-Wan, watching him hurry out the door, all of them - except for one scowling girl.

Padawan Tachi never looked once at Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon knew then that something had to be done. To allow it to fester one more day would do Obi-Wan or Siri no service.

Pushing his own food aside, he sat there, amidst the roar of greetings and gossip and laughter, hearing none of it, and thought about what would be the best approach. Adi Gallia, Council member and Siri's Master, might have some insight into the dilemma; after all, they had talked about it at length when the problem first arose and they had agreed to allow their padawans time to make it right. But time had run out. The teenagers needed to face this thing between them. Before it got any worse.

With one final displeased grunt, he stood and began walking towards his quarters, waiting until the din had quieted down to a distant rumble before he pulled out his comlink and thumbed it on. "Adi, it's Qui-Gon. I believe that problem we discussed has worsened. It's time we helped things along."

The voice at the other end of the signal let out a long, unhappy sigh. "Very well." Master Gallia paused for a moment and then said quietly, "I had hoped that Siri and Obi-Wan would have settled things by now. But considering the pair, I suppose it was too much to expect. What do you suggest?"

"I talked about this with Obi-Wan. Even Master Yoda tried to reason with him and all it did was push him into hiding behind platitudes and silence. Lectures will not work. Siri, I believe, would balk at a direct confrontation and so would my apprentice. Both of them stubborn, no matter how we might couch the discussion in gentle diplomacy. We need to come at them from a different direction."

"I agree." Adi sounded almost disheartened. "Siri claims that there is no problem. We both know better."

"They have always been competitive. I suggest a sparring match between them. They will focus on the competition and not on their regrets. And get them talking again." Frowning as he reached his destination, he hesitated before entering. "One of the smaller salons in perhaps an hour?"

"Very well. Salon AA23 is available. I'll send Siri down and meet you there. An hour, then. Gallia out."

Tucking the comlink back into his belt, Qui-Gon straightened and took a deep breath to center himself. He would need balance, to be both sympathetic and firm, if he was going to help his apprentice. Beyond the door, in their quarters, Obi-Wan was likely berating himself for being less than the perfect Jedi while trying to come to terms with his choices. And, Qui-Gon thought wryly that his padawan was very like his stubborn master, in those choices and in the struggle as well.

As he opened the door, he could see Obi-Wan at the far end of the room, standing by the transparasteel window, looking out into the distance. His back was stiff, his arms tight around his chest. But it was the aching sorrow in the air and the way the Force swirled about Obi-Wan as if to comfort that tore at Qui-Gon's throat.

His padawan did not turn as he walked over to the window and stood beside him. For a few moments, Qui-Gon said not a word, trying to give Obi-Wan a chance to talk about what was bothering him, hoping that he would take this opportunity to connect with his old Master, not as student to teacher but as friends.

Instead, Obi-Wan seemed to curl inward; the slump of his shoulders spoke volumes of his hurt. He kept sending little side glances toward Qui-Gon and then looking away again, as if he was waiting for censure or a lecture and dreading it. The frown was there too, and the grief. It made his apprentice look years older and haggard and very unhappy.

At last, Qui-Gon said gently, "I've arranged for a salon in an hour. Sparring may help clear your mind."

Obi-Wan nodded abruptly. Then as he stared out the window, blinking rapidly, his grey eyes liquid in the afternoon light, he said softly, "I'm sorry about the way I behaved in the dining hall, Master. It won't happen again."

"It's the choices we make that define us, Padawan. I know that it has been hard."

"Harder than you know," Obi-Wan said, his voice raw with emotion. "I just didn't think it would hurt this much."

His apprentice was wrong, of course. Qui-Gon knew all too well how much pain loving another could bring. Especially when a Jedi is not allowed to love.

Not so long ago, Qui-Gon had also done the forbidden - with his friend and creche-mate, Tahl. They had been friends longer than lovers and lovers only long enough to share one sweet kiss before her death. Oh, yes, he knew just how much pain there was in love.

And now his padawan had made the same mistake. With Siri Tachi.

Qui-Gon should have seen it sooner, the growing emotion between the two and yet he had not. He had been distracted with missions and duty, never expecting his serious and dedicated student to fall in love.

But a lingering glance between Obi-Wan and Siri and Qui-Gon was suddenly aware of the way they seemed to orbit each other, the undernote of longing in their conversation, the hesitant graze of hands when they thought no one was around. The profound tenderness in their silences.

It broke his heart to have to remind Obi-Wan of the rules and strictures of the Jedi Code, that central to a Jedi's life was duty and selfless service. Attachment was forbidden, absolutely and irrevocably. The Jedi would not change their rules for Obi-Wan, no matter how he might wish it were so. If his padawan chose attachment and Siri, if he refused to abide by the Code, he would have to leave the Order.

Intellectually, his padawan knew the Code well; he had learned the dictates of the Order with the same distant concern as he would have memorized the size of Coruscant's sun or how to make fire from stone and kindling. And before this affair, Qui-Gon would have said that his padawan agreed with the Code - all of it - following the rules in spirit as well as mind, understanding the reasons for each and every one to the point of arguing in favor of some with his Master - much to Qui-Gon's chagrin.

But the heart could lead even the most devout astray. Obi-Wan had not truly realized the extent of his sacrifice to the Order until that moment.

The two of them, young Jedi in heart and mind, had only one choice to make, and in the end, it was not a choice at all. And now they were paying the price.

"The pain will ease in time." He tried to sound encouraging but Obi-Wan would have none of it.

"I wonder. You haven't... " his voice trailed off, sullen and then instantly contrite. Turning away, he gazed out the window again, his head bowed in wordless apology.

Qui-Gon reached out, gripping Obi-Wan's shoulder for a moment in sympathy. He understood that his apprentice was lost and in pain; Obi-Wan needed to know the truth about that time and all the times since then when Qui-Gon grieved for his own lost love.

Sorrow husked his voice as he murmured, "I've been less than honest with you, Obi-Wan."

As his padawan blinked up in surprise, Qui-Gon sent him an apologetic smile and then turned to gaze into the brilliant afternoon light. "When I first realized that you loved Siri, I told you that you had to choose between her and the Jedi."

He paused, remembering again the shattered look on Obi-Wan's face. But he knew he had to let his padawan know just how much he truly understood. "In your pain, you criticized me for loving Tahl when you were being asked to give up your own love. And you were correct to do so, much as it was difficult to hear. It hurt to talk of her, to remember that time when I thought nothing mattered but her. And when she died, I wanted revenge with every breath that I took."

Obi-Wan waited patiently and Qui-Gon was thankful for it. Gathering his strength, he said gently, "You helped me to see the Light once more. Helped me in more ways than I can count, not just at that moment but in all the moments since then. But your question brought back the pain of our last good-bye and I didn't answer honestly or well."

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan murmured, "Master, you don't have to say anything else. I understand."

"I must say this, young one. You chose the Jedi path even though you could see the love shining in her eyes. It took courage."

His padawan shrugged off the praise, still joyless in the unrelenting anguish of memory, but Qui-Gon thought he could see just the slightest ease in his young student's face. He knew that Obi-Wan would remember what he said, later when he was alone and could allow himself to accept it.

"Padawan, I'm not sure that I would have had the same courage at that moment. But, after the first rush of acknowledging that love, I think Tahl and I would have put it aside and remained with the Order. Just as you have done."

"I know that I was meant to be a Jedi." Obi-Wan hesitated, almost as if he didn't know what to say or how to say it. "But it still hurts."

"And it will for some time. But as the attachment fades, your friendship with Siri will grow and be stronger for the loss you now feel."

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan said hoarsely, "I tried to talk to her, to go back to being friends. But I'm not sure I can. Every time I see her face, I remember. And she turned away so quickly. No goodbyes, nothing but the sound of her footsteps as she walked away from me."

His padawan stopped abruptly, his breathing rapid and harsh. He seemed to be awash in confusion and anger and regret. Obi-Wan slumped, leaning against the window and tucking his hands into wide sleeves; his crossed arms seemed almost a living shield against hurt. As his padawan stared out into the distance, his voice was hushed, "How could she do that?"

Qui-Gon wasn't sure what to do next. He wanted to shake his student until he saw reason or else comfort him with soft words and a rough hug; instead, he said, "It has been hard for her as well, my Padawan."

Obi-Wan looked up at him, the grey bewilderment in his eyes morphing into stone. "I don't think so. I've tried to talk to her about it. She walks away and ignores me. You saw her in the dining hall. It's the same every time. She's made it very clear that she wants nothing to do with me." Shrugging, he muttered, "It's better for everyone if I just stay away."

"Obi-Wan..."

"Master, I promise that I'll behave as a proper Jedi should but, except for missions, I don't want to see her again." In Obi-Wan's eyes shone the knowledge that his love for Siri could never be more than an aching dream, that he would be Jedi and forever apart. His young face was a study of contrasts; loss warring with love, lines etching his skin in frown and regret. "I'll just stay away."

"Obi-Wan, a Jedi faces his fears, not runs from them."

Shaking his head, with a look as decided and stubborn as a gundark's, Obi-Wan straightened up. He said stiffly, "This is not running, Master. She said she would forget it ever happened and she has. It's what she wants, for me to stay as far away from her as possible. And I'm going to do it. For her sake."

Qui-Gon stood there staring down at Obi-Wan; his padawan may have thought he was sincere in his protests but he knew better. The boy... the young man was lying to himself. It was for his own pain as much as Siri's that Obi-Wan wanted to avoid the situation.

And avoidance was unacceptable, especially here and now. If Obi-Wan could not see that he needed to face Siri and come to an understanding between them, then there was only one recourse. Confrontation.

Qui-Gon waited a few heartbeats longer, hoping that his stubborn apprentice would come to his senses. But he did not. Instead, Obi-Wan leaned against the transparasteel, arms folded, scowling unhappily into the distance, and said not a word.

Letting go of his own mixed feelings about this situation, Qui-Gon knew that he could not allow Obi-Wan this emotional retreat. It was counter to everything that they had both worked so long and hard to accomplish. Obi-Wan had to face his fears - much as his padawan would wish it otherwise. Qui-Gon would have to be firm. He could do nothing less.

Crossing his arms tightly about his chest in a showy stance of irrevocable decision, Qui-Gon breathed out his doubts and renewed his determination to make things right. Stepping closer to Obi-Wan, close enough to startle the young one, he frowned down at him. Surprised, his apprentice lurched backward and stood there, blinking up into the face of a now stern and strict Jedi Master.

"Padawan, you have explained your reasoning. I accept that your feelings in this are strong but you will put them aside as befitting a Jedi. Sacrifice and duty are the expectations that we all live with and you must accept them if you are to remain in the Order."

Obi-Wan stared up at him, confused at first and then resigned to the rebuke. It was nothing that he did not already know and Qui-Gon was merely reminding him of that fact.

"Yes, Master." A long sigh and Obi-Wan stood there waiting, it would seem, for a further list of his shortcomings.

But that was not Qui-Gon's intent. Instead, he said, "In one hour, your presence is required in room AA23 for lightsaber drills. You will be sparring with another padawan... Siri Tachi."

And then waited for the explosion. It was not long in coming.

"No. You can't be serious. After all that you... I..." His padawan's face was flushed with mutiny and a kind of bewildered anger.

"Very serious. You have both been avoiding the problem for far too long. I meant what I said, Obi-Wan, and if you were thinking clearly on this issue, you would agree with me. You must face your fears if you are to grow, my Padawan." He said sternly, "Master Gallia and I have no recourse but to insist on this. For both your sakes."

Obi-Wan went rigid, his arms locked like chains around his body, his mouth flattened in utter fury at what he must have perceived as betrayal. He was breathing hard, too, and Qui-Gon could see the way that his padawan was fighting to release his anger, trying to get it under control before he did something even more foolish than falling in love. It seemed to take an eternity but finally and with a great show of effort, he bowed and said tightly, "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon knew then that he'd lost him. His padawan was no longer listening, only obeying the mandates of the Jedi Code without any joy in his heart or satisfaction in duty. And all Qui-Gon could do was hope that the coming battle would make things right again. _Somehow._


	2. Chapter 2

Obi-Wan said nothing as they entered the practice room. They had not spoken in the long minutes it took to reach the salon but, as his padawan shuffled reluctantly over to the bench to prepare for the match, Qui-Gon could see Obi-Wan's protest in the furtive glances toward the door, the white-knuckled hands, the thunderous set of his face. The way he refused to meet Qui-Gon's gaze.

Watching Obi-Wan struggle to accept the situation, Qui-Gon fought the urge to comfort him. He knew that his padawan would neither welcome nor appreciate the gesture at the moment. And, much as it pained him, he also knew that it would only cloud the issue.

Always an exemplary student, Obi-Wan's growth toward Knighthood had been steady and sure in the last few years. But confused about his love for Siri and the despair that came with his decision to put aside that love and remain with the Jedi, he was refusing to face his pain. He had to get past this or it might cripple him. And if fighting Siri in the arena would get him to realize it, then so much the better.

But that didn't mean that Qui-Gon was unsympathetic. Far from it. But it was Obi-Wan's choice and, at the moment, it was an unhappy one.

Finished with his preparations, Obi-Wan sank down onto the seat and sat there, hunched over, elbows on knees. His padawan was staring at his lightsaber; he kept rolling the hilt back and forth between his hands. Clearly nervous.

And as Qui-Gon considered what to do next, his padawan finally looked up. Frowning, face set with determination, it was his eyes that told the truth about the situation. Obi-Wan was miserable. But he also looked as if he were ready to do what needed to be done - even at the cost of his own well being.

In a small way, Qui-Gon felt relieved. It would seem that Obi-Wan was taking his first steps towards acceptance of the situation, hard as that might be, and, with time, the wound would heal.

But as Qui-Gon moved toward his apprentice, hoping to talk further about this, Adi Gallia entered the room. Looking first at Obi-Wan, she nodded briefly toward him and then turned and walked over to Qui-Gon's side.

"Siri will be here momentarily. She is... unhappy about our arrangement." A glance again toward his padawan. "As unhappy as Obi-Wan seems to be. But I think you are right, Qui-Gon. They need to confront their feelings and let go. They certainly can't work well together as it stands."

He didn't have time to reply because Padawan Tachi came into the room. She stopped short, just inside the door, looking at Obi-Wan for a moment. Qui-Gon could see the pain in her face and then watched it smooth into Jedi calm. It would appear that Siri knew how to hide her own feelings well.

As the girl walked toward the two masters, Adi smiled, gesturing for her to come closer.

Qui-Gon looked down at the girl, testing the currents of the Force for any sign of anger or strong emotion in her. Siri just stared back at him, almost defiant. She was tightly shielded but there was an air of challenge in her posture. But he could see that Adi was correct; Siri didn't want to be here any more than Obi-Wan did.

Glancing at the older woman for a moment, he turned back to Siri and inclined his head in greeting.

As much as it appeared that Siri did not like the situation, her manners were impeccable. She bowed with all the grace of a senior padawan and waited silently as Qui-Gon motioned for Obi-Wan to join them in the center of the room.

Reluctant as he had been over the last few minutes, Obi-Wan was even more so now. He walked over and stood a careful arms-length away from the girl. Frowning, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest, his padawan glanced once at Siri and then turned away, instead looking at Qui-Gon with a steadfast deliberate gaze, seemingly focused on the coming match. But the hooded eyes and flat mouth told a different tale.

Fooling no one, the two of them were only making things more difficult with this feigned indifference. The frown on Obi-Wan's face was cutting-sharp and he looked as if he wanted to disappear. Siri's own scowl could have matched Obi-Wan's line for line.

Qui-Gon stood there for a moment, watching them both, and then said calmly, "As Jedi, we are taught to serve selfless service, to put the needs of others above our own desires."

Siri seemed to blaze with anger for a moment, sending Obi-Wan a glare that should have incinerated him into smoking ruin. But his Learner only shifted uneasily, ignoring her heated stare.

Stubborn padawans, causing pain when they should have been helping each other to grow into acceptance. Qui-Gon wanted to shake some sense into them. But instead, he said, "You both have accepted the rules of the Jedi Order and pledged your lives to it. It is a hard road, a hard life you have chosen, but one that will bring you fulfillment in the service of others. But you both seemed to have forgotten what is central to a Jedi's life." He slowed, emphasizing his words, "Compassion, compassion not just for the poor or the sick but for everyone and that includes compassion for your fellow Jedi. Compassion for each other. Remember that and you will find balance once more."

Staring first for a long moment at Siri and then pointedly at Obi-Wan, he nodded toward the sparring circle in the center of the room, "Once Padawan Tachi is ready, you may begin."

Qui-Gon stepped back, giving the two padawans leave to prepare for the match. With a smile and nod from her master, Siri went over to the bench and began a series of stretching exercises to warm up.

Wordless, Obi-Wan moved to the center of the sparring ring, and stood there, pensive and frowning, his eyes dull. He seemed to have turned inward for a moment and Qui-Gon knew, from long experience, that his Learner was thinking about what he had said and taking his words to heart. Whatever his own pain, Obi-Wan was a compassionate young man and much harder on himself than others, sometimes too much so.

It was only a few heartbeats later and Siri entered the circle. Setting the power of her saber on low, she smoothed into ready stance. Obi-Wan matched her, move for move but nothing more. No grand sweep of his saber, or daring push into her defenses. He waited there, passive and somber, and let his blade hum discord into the room.

As the moments lengthened, Siri's impatience finally gained the upper hand. The first to break the impasse, she sent a sharp look toward both masters, and then with a quick sweep of her saber, she was on Obi-Wan, slashing down toward his lowered blade.

Surprised, his Learner stepped back, raising his lightsaber and defending himself. But he did not step forward with his own sure moves. There was no attempt to gain the upper hand in this match as he normally would have done. Instead, he retreated again and again as she struck at him; their sabers flared with each offensive thrust, the spitting crackle of crossed lightsabers filling the room with battle-noise.

Qui-Gon grew concerned as Siri pushed Obi-Wan back toward the edge of the circle. His padawan was not fighting her and yet she was becoming more and more aggressive with each attack. "She is using her anger."

A quick shake of her head, Master Gallia corrected, "No, not anger. Uncertainty. Whenever she grows unsure of her own actions, she tends to react… vigorously." Putting one small hand on his sleeve, she nodded toward her padawan. "She is young. She will learn control in time."

"Perhaps." Indeed, this insight into Siri's reactions might explain why his Learner reacted so strongly whenever he had seen her in the past few months. Obi-Wan tended to withdraw when uncertain and think about the situation before reacting - a lesson learned after Melida/Daan - and his apprentice was only now realizing that there was a place for feeling as well as thinking. A fine balance and one he would achieve as he grew in experience. But if Siri were lashing out as a way of barricading herself from the emotions of attachment, his padawan might not see it as anything but anger with his attempts at friendship.

"They need to work out their differences, Qui-Gon. As you well know."

With a nod, Qui-Gon accepted the mild reproof and then he turned back to watch the match.

Ob-Wan's blade blurring with speed, first low then high, he prevented another strike as Siri pressed her advantage. He was sweating, his tunic dark with it and the frown on his face seemed permanently etched into his skin. Even from a distance, Qui-Gon could see his padawan breathing heavily. But more importantly, he could feel Obi-Wan's pain, confusion and sharp disappointment and even anger swirling in the Force.

For a moment, Siri stepped back and his apprentice used the brief pause to look in his direction. Obi-Wan's grey eyes were clouded with hurt and vulnerability. Qui-Gon tried to send him an encouraging smile; his hand moved to grip the lightsaber at his waist, an obvious reminder to his Learner that he was confident of the young man's abilities and encouraging him to do his best.

The message must have gotten through because Obi-Wan seemed to gather strength at that, and when Siri renewed her attack, he fought back. At last.

She must have expected him to continue on as he had done, defending against her attacks but not pressing for victory. When he moved forward suddenly, she jerked in surprise and then over-reached, her body twisting as she tried to push his blade down. As he stepped back, looping his saber around hers in an attempt to disarm her, she stumbled and, turning abruptly to avoid getting burned, she fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

Obi-Wan was there in an instant, rushing to her side. Squatting down, his hands fisted on his knees as if afraid to offer his help, he said, "Siri, are you hurt? Do you need to go to the Healers?"

From his vantage point, Qui-Gon could not see what the girl was doing. He asked Adi, in a low, hurried voice, "Is she injured?" But Siri's Master just shook her head. He knew that Adi would have gone to Siri if there had been any problem but she did not seem worried. He pushed aside his own concern and waited to see how the two padawans would react to the situation.

Siri must not have replied to Obi-Wan's question for he repeated it, more urgently this time, leaning forward in his concern. She whispered something, some instruction or reassurance and he stood up and then bent down, hand outstretched, offering his support.

Qui-Gon was surprised when the girl grabbed onto Obi-Wan's hand and then, with a sharp tug, rolled backwards, flipping his padawan over her head and scrambling to her feet even as Obi-Wan hit the floor. Skidding, he let out a loud grunt and lay there, staring up at her.

"Kenobi, what kind of game are you playing?" There was challenge in her voice. "I'm not some youngling to be protected. Now, stop embarrassing us both and fight."

As Obi-Wan struggled up and back into ready stance, Qui-Gon could not hear his reply but an instant later, the two padawans were fighting with everything at their command. His student was a brilliant centerpoint in the tumultuous battle; his blade seemed to be everywhere at once and now it was Siri that was forced to defend. Vigorously.

But as they continued to fight, it seemed that the Force grew calmer, more at peace. Their thrusts and counter-strikes turned from furious assault into a celebration of light and focus and anticipation. Of joy in the dance.

Obi-Wan's frown had melted into concentration and he was smiling as he plunged himself into the moment. The blur of blades, blue and violet, morphed into Mobius stripes of unsullied radiance, the light almost too bright to be seen with human eyes, beautiful in the luminescent glory of pure energy.

And it could have gone on forever, as the war between them turned into acceptance and acceptance into satisfaction, but when exhaustion set in, the first mistake was inevitable.

His padawan tried to parry an overhead strike but Siri took advantage of the situation, sweeping her leg up towards Obi-Wan's vulnerable throat. He was too fast. As she pivoted up into position, he feigned and then brought his blade down across her side, searing through cloth and flesh.

With a startled yelp, she dropped her arm, protecting her injured side. Obi-Wan backed up, letting her get her breath and control the pain.

But Adi Gallia had had enough. Calling a halt to the fight, she said, "Well done, both of you. That will be enough for today."

Obi-Wan and Siri were not listening. Instead, the two of them stood there, breath ragged and unsteady, staring at each other. Qui-Gon could see the euphoria of the saber match slowly drain away from Obi-Wan's face but his padawan continued to gaze at the girl, clearly waiting for some signal. Which did not come.

Finally, as the endless moments dragged into bewilderment, his padawan turned away and started walking slowly toward Qui-Gon. Even from a distance, he could see the defeat in Obi-Wan's eyes. Behind him, Siri looked shattered.

But only for a moment. Straightening, she called after him, "Obi-Wan," and as he turned around, she said, "That last move of yours… a baby from the crèche could do better. You need practice and lots of it."

In the Force, Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan's pained astonishment at her words. But that changed a moment later when she said loudly, "Here, tomorrow, same time. And I won't hold back next time."

He could not understand how she could treat Obi-Wan with such disrespect. He was tempted to speak to Master Gallia about her padawan's casual disregard for others but it became clear a moment later that he might have misinterpreted Siri's intent. For Obi-Wan did not react as he had expected.

Instead of tumbling into further pain with her remark, his padawan straightened up, blinking rapidly, and a wide relieved grin spread across on his face. He turned back to her, and said softly, "I'll be there."

With a sharp nod, Siri walked away - the lightness in her step spoke of understanding between them and the beginnings of acceptance. The door closed smoothly behind her.

As Master Gallia sighed in relief, she turned to Qui-Gon, saying quietly, "I think it might just have worked. Although I believe there will be long Master - Padawan discussions ahead." She rested her hand on Qui-Gon's sleeve for a moment and nodded toward Obi-Wan. "Good luck with your own. Let me know if I can be of any further help."

"Thank you, Adi, I will."

With a final pat of his arm, she inclined her head first to Qui-Gon and then to Obi-Wan and then followed her apprentice out of the room.

Then there were just the two. Master and Apprentice.

Obi-Wan was still staring at the door, frowning in concentration rather than in pain but with a small smile on his face as well. The Force, too, was clearing; the smoky currents of anger and aggression had dissipated into peaceful clarity. Although he was still confused about the import of Siri's final comments, Obi-Wan was not; apparently, the confrontation had worked better than Qui-Gon planned.

But Qui-Gon had to make sure. As he moved next to his padawan, he asked, "Obi-Wan?"

Glancing at him for a moment and then turning back toward the door, his padawan said quietly, "You were right after all, Master. She _was_ in pain."

"I know." Qui-Gon's hand gripped the shoulder of his student, a show of support for his young Learner, and then he let Obi-Wan go. He kept his voice light but there was just a touch of worry as he said, "She challenged you to another match."

A smile lightened Obi-Wan's face. "That was her way of saying that we were still friends."

"I'm glad for you, my Padawan. You both have so much to offer. And friendship is a precious thing."

Obi-Wan nodded and then, turning serious again, murmured, "Yes, but it will not be the same." His grey eyes expressive with concern, he looked into Qui-Gon's own. "The memories of that day and all the days since then... I know I made the right decision staying with the Jedi. But I still question why it happened. Did the Force have some reason? Wouldn't it have been better never to have loved at all than this?"

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon realized that he had been asking the same questions of himself in the years since he had lost Tahl. But he also knew that, with time, for all the loss, his love for her had only made him a better Jedi. A better man.

"Obi-Wan, if you had to choose it all over again, would you choose never to have loved? Even knowing that you could do nothing more than let go of your attachment?"

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say something, some quick retort that wouldn't come. Instead, he turned away, staring sightless into the distance, frowning. In deep thought.

Knowing that his ever-serious padawan would need to reach his own conclusions, Qui-Gon prepared to wait however long it took. But it was only a few moments later that Obi-Wan said, soft and low, "No, I would not change what happened."

"A wise man you have become, my Padawan." Qui-Gon said with smiling approval. Then turning solemn, he promised, "The pain will fade in time but the memories will remain. Treasure them, Obi-Wan."

His padawan bowed slightly, a wordless acknowledgement, and then they turned as one and began walking toward the exit.

For a few moments, there was nothing but silence. Then, with much hesitation as if concerned with overstepping his bounds and intruding on Qui-Gon's privacy but needing to know the answer for his own peace of mind, Obi-Wan said, "Master, do you... treasure your memories with Master Tahl?"

"The good ones, yes. She had a rare gift of seeing past the facade and into the heart." He stopped, looking at Obi-Wan with all seriousness. "She saw a young boy who had made a mistake and knew that he was meant to be a Jedi. And she was tough enough and pushy enough to get through his foolish Master's stubborn pride and made sure that the boy was given a second chance."

A shy murmur. "Not so foolish."

"Very foolish but he has learned many things since then." Qui-Gon reached out and took the long braid of his Learner between his fingertips, feeling the strands of thread against his palm. A reminder of times past and a future together woven into the tapestry of their lives. Smiling down at Obi-Wan, he carefully patted the hair back into place. "The memories will help you grow into the Jedi Knight I know you will be in time. Compassionate and sure of purpose, dedicated to the Light."

Seemingly embarrassed by the praise, Obi-Wan glanced away for a moment. Then turning back, with a half smile, he said wryly, "And wise?"

Qui-Gon tried not to laugh. He knew that his apprentice was attempting to lighten the moment. They had both had enough of anger and despair and pain; it was good to see Obi-Wan's normally sunny disposition start to shine through.

"Wise indeed, my diligent one." Huffing in amusement, he gave his apprentice an affectionate shake, then twisting him back toward the door, let him go.

As they walked side by side, Qui-Gon knew it was time to share some of his own memories. The happy ones. "Have I ever told you how Tahl and I became friends?" When Obi-Wan looked up in surprise and shook his head, Qui-Gon just chuckled, "She was just four and scampering around, screeching at the top of her lungs, trying to outrun the crèche masters. She was a boisterous little thing, always getting into trouble..."

Glancing down to see the growing smile on Obi-Wan's face and his eyes green with amusement, Qui-Gon's spirit eased into relief. It would be all right after all.

Relaxing into the moment, he could feel it in all its crystal clarity - brilliant and beautiful. But it was more than a single instant of accord between them. They were bound together not only by the Jedi code but by experience and loss and hope for the future, companions in the Force. Master and apprentice.

And it was good.

The end.


End file.
